The Great Mouse Detective: A Biased Judgement
by Monica Jasmine
Summary: Understanding that Basil can only offer her his friendship despite her feelings for him; Miss Anthia Bloom makes occasional visits to 22 Baker Street to see the detective and Dawson as friends. But an unexpected event will challenge Basil in ways no case ever could, and lead Dawson to discover that there may be some very deep-seated reasons for his friend's cynical views on love.
1. Anthia Arrives

_**Note: This story takes place after 'Professions and Confessions' and 'Dawson's Perspective', however it is still perfectly coherent as a stand-alone.**_

* * *

The Great Mouse Detective: A Biased Judgment

Chapter 1: Anthia Arrives

It had been several months since Basil had refused her, and Miss Anthia Bloom had quickly come to accept his decision with all the grace befitting a mature young lady. Happily, her confession, and understanding in the face of rejection, had a dual-beneficial effect; enabling Basil to permit her his friendship without feeling burdened by unrealistic expectations, and also allowing Miss Bloom to enjoy his company unhindered by the pressing need to reveal her true feelings for him.

The two had reconciled to maintain a platonic relationship on good terms, and Miss Bloom contented herself with making occasional visits to 22 ½ Baker Street to see Basil, and also his good friend and partner in crime-solving; Dawson. These visits were always met with a warm welcome from its residents, who rarely—if ever—received social calls, as detective work— _or tirelessly waiting for it_ —quite _thoroughly_ monopolized their free time.

And it was upon this particularly pleasant summer morning, that Miss Bloom had decided to set out for just such a aforementioned visit, and as it was such a nice day, she had decided to forsake the transportation available to her, and simply walk there. Her father _had_ suggested she have the coachman drop by with the carriage at a set time that would come after she'd completed her visit, but she told him of how she had made an agreement with Basil that his work would always come first, and were a client to arrive, her visits would always come to an abrupt end; in which case the coachman would most certainly have wasted his trip, as she would have already started for home once he got there.

No, she would either walk back, or were it quite late; hail a mouse-hansom, so as to prevent her from having to walk the London streets alone at night. Now were these the only assurances the rather protective Mr. Bloom had of his daughter's safety, he might have forbid her excursions, but it just so happened that Basil had been of great assistance to him in the past, and he trusted the detective would never allow her safety to fall to chance... a trust, which was most assuredly well-placed.

Although usually quite a level-headed young lady, Miss Bloom did have a tendency to make _slightly_ imprudent choices whenever it came to situations wherein she felt she could be _inconveniencing someone_... And once, when one of her visits had been cut short by the entrance of a client, she had intended to set out for home, alone - despite it being late afternoon, and the possibility of her being unable to hail a mouse-hansom before dark was a valid one. Thankfully, Basil had kept a close eye on clock, and refused to let her leave unless she allowed Dawson to accompany her as far as proved necessary.. much to her embarrassment, as she knew Basil preferred to work cases _with_ his good friend.

The retired surgeon had had to walk her quite far before managing to attain a ride for her, and Miss Bloom feared the event would result in Basil telling her she was no longer permitted to visit him. He surprised her however, by merely suggesting that she alert her father to the possibility of such a situation recurring, and that if need be, she could always stay the night with the widowed landlady; Mrs. Judson - who upon hearing about the difficulty, reportedly 'volunteered' to share a room with Anthia should the need ever arise in the future.

Miss Bloom, quite relieved and grateful, went to thank the kindly woman personally, only to discover—entirely by accident—that Basil had actually promised to provide Mrs. Judson _compensation_ for the possible inconvenience, a gesture of Basil's which both surprised, and delighted Miss Bloom, who hadn't realized that he valued her friendship to that degree... Anthia decided to keep the knowledge of the incident to herself... if only just to find out how long it would take Basil to deduce that she knew it.

Breaking away from her thoughts, Anthia lifted her eyes to see her destination before her... 22 ½ Baker Street... and she smiled at the sight, hoping that she would be fortunate enough to catch the detective duo at home this time.

* * *

Basil leveled the two test-tubes with each other, eying them critically... then he very carefully, very slowly tipped them, pouring their liquids into a nearby beaker and...

 _ **pffffffffffffffshhhhssssh**_

...resigned himself to a week's worth of labor wasted... and the secrets of a long extinct race... now truly _lost forever._

He sighed deeply, before slumping depressedly into a nearby chair, and was just about to start contemplating the futility of all mortal life when...

 _"Basil! Miss Bloom is here!"_ called Dawson, from the living room.

Basil leapt to his feet, his demeanor completely altered, and hurriedly set about changing into something more presentable.

 _Ahh well! No use crying over a silly little old failed experiment when he had a visitor!_

Emerging from his bedroom, Basil passed through the hall before reaching the consultation room where he caught sight of Dawson standing next to the young lady. He noted that Miss Bloom had walked here today, and had taken the longer, more scenic route. She had also had a bite to eat at _Edgar's Cafe_ , changed her hairstyle, was wearing a newly purchased light blue dress... _and had obviously found out about his promising to pay Mrs. Judson to permit Anthia emergency lodgings..._

 _ **Drat!**_ _Well he certainly wasn't going to admit to it... that much was certain!_

"Hello Basil," she greeted him pleasantly, her eyes shining. "Are you doing well?"

"It was for Dawson's sake as much as it was mine!" he insisted defensively. "And it's not as if you haven't made any efforts on your end to put up with our odd schedule... It was the _least_ I could do!"

Dawson and Anthia glanced confusedly between themselves, and then turned their eyes back to Basil.

"Basil?" the good doctor began, a perplexed expression strown across his features. "Just what is it you're talking about?"

Basil noticed Anthia was smirking, and so he cleared his throat and glanced away. "Nevermind, Dawson," he said quietly, before indicating Miss Bloom to a nearby seat. "Do sit down," he said, avoiding her gaze.

She did as he'd suggested, and Dawson left the room to go and retrieve the tea set, and leave them to sort out... _whatever it was they obviously needed to sort out._

Some moments were passed between the two mice in silence, before one of them spoke.

"Aren't you going to sit down?" Anthia asked gently, looking up at a rather stiff and obstinate Basil - who had been staring with some intensity... at nothing in particular.

Basil cleared his throat again and sat down in the red armchair across from Miss Bloom, a brief glance he made to her alerting him to the fact that she was still smirking.

"Basil," she spoke softly. "Thank you for doing that for me."—He turned to look at her—"It was very kind of you and... I really appreciate it." She smiled warmly at him.

He turned his head away from her and cleared his throat again. "You're... welcome," he said briskly.

She elicited a half-suppressed giggle, the release of which readily did away with the awkward tension that had hung in the air, and soon enough Basil and her were both chuckling at the humorous situation. Dawson came in with tea at that moment, clueless as to what had passed between them, but pleased to find things evidently resolved.

"One lump or two?" Dawson asked politely, handing Anthia a teacup.

"Two," she replied, smiling.


	2. Because of Sand

The Great Mouse Detective: A Biased Judgment

Chapter 2: Because of Sand

No clients visited that day, but it was all just as well. The three of them spent many pleasant hours engaged in animated conversation on various subjects; Basil's old cases, Dawson's time in Afghanistan, foreign art and music... but eventually the visit had to draw to a close, and the detective offered to go with Miss Bloom to find a cab.

Anthia bid Dawson farewell, and she and Basil stepped out into the cool night air to begin their leisurely walk in the direction of the Bloom Estate, keeping a sharp eye out for mouse-hansoms along the way. They talked as they went.

"And then I said; _'Ah yes, well... You will excuse my rudeness, Ratigan. As were I not dangling from a cliff at this moment, I would most certainly give that remark the courtesy of a face-palm.'''_

"You didn't!" Anthia giggled.

"Oh, but I _did_ ," replied Basil, grinning. "And it _infuriated_ him so!"

"Oh." Anthia looked a bit concerned. "Mightn't it have been better not to provoke him when in such a compromising position?"

"Well.. yes," Basil admitted. "But those were my earlier days. I eventually learned to be a little more sparing with my cutting remarks.. _**after**_ the Big Ben incident."

"The Big Ben incident?" Anthia tilted her head a bit. "I don't think you ever told me about that one."

Basil averted his eyes slightly. "Oh... well... You remember me telling you about the Flaversham case don't you? The one where I met Dawson? It occurred sometime during that case."

"Well, yes but... I don't recall you telling me about anything particularly dangero—"

 _ **"Ahh! Look!"**_ said Basil, pointing across the street at a mouse-hansom (while also conveniently avoiding the subject). _ **"You there!"**_ he called, attempting to gain the cab-mouse's attention. He removed his arm from Miss Bloom's and left her side to get closer. _**"Ahoy Cabbie!"**_

Suddenly, a large (human-sized) horse-drawn carriage turned the corner onto the street. The team had _**obviously**_ been quite spooked by _something_ , and were tearing frantically down the road.. the same road that Basil was currently in the process of crossing.

The detective's focus elsewhere, he didn't notice the incoming danger... _But Anthia did_ , and her eyes widened in realization. Not even having time to think, she darted for him. She didn't have enough strength in her arms alone to pull Basil out of the way, so she threw her whole body into it, causing herself to be _thrust_ forward and into the runaway carriage's path, while simultaneously propelling _him_ away from it.

Basil barely had time for his mind to register what had just happened before he turned to see Miss Bloom disappear into a frenzied stampede of hooves, and when the carriage had passed he caught sight of her wisp of a form - laying limp on the damp cobblestone street.

A look of horror passed over his features. _**"Miss Bloom!"**_ Snapping himself out of his shock, he scrambled to his feet and ran over to her, skittering to a stop in the middle of the road and falling to his knees next to her.

 _"M-Miss Bloom?"_ He extended his trembling hands to her and began checking her for any major injuries... But he didn't see any blood. In fact, she didn't seem to be hurt at all. Her eyelids fluttered open. _"B-Basil?"_ she uttered weakly.

 _Thank heavens!_ _ **Oh, thank heavens!**_

He helped her stand, and hurriedly pulled her safely off to the side and out of the middle of the road.

"Miss Bloom, are you alright?" he asked her, his voice shaking.

"Yes... Yes, I think I'm alright," she replied quietly.

"Are you _certain_?!" he asked, still inspecting her for signs of bodily harm.

"Yes Basil." She swallowed. "The horses missed me. I'm.. I'm alright."

There was a pause.

 _ **"Then what were you thinking!?"**_ he shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders. _ **"Did you think I'd be glad!? Did you think I'd be HAPPY if you died instead of me?! How dare you! How DARE you go and put yourself into harm's way like that! If you EVER do something like that again I'll—"**_

She looked to him, her eyes filled and giving the unmistakable impression that the deepest kind of emotional hurt had just been inflicted. Basil instantly regretted his words. All traces of his anger vanished, and he softened his voice in a feeble attempt to undo the damage.

"Miss Bloom I—"

Her lower lip quivered.

"I didn't mean to—"

She turned aside and hid her face from him, sniffling.

Basil felt an indescribable heaviness settle in his chest. _What had he been thinking? She had just risked her life to save his and he chose to repay her by berating and scolding her!?_ He fumbled for his handkerchief, unsure how his clumsy movements even managed to deliver it into her dainty hands. She brought it up to her eyes and turned away from him a little more, crying into it. Basil swallowed dryly, his 'brilliant mind' unable to think of even a single comforting thing to say, and his tongue tied so thoroughly that not even a word of it could've found it's way out of his mouth anyway.

Many long, _horrible_ moments passed...

And then he heard it...

"W-why?" she whimpered painfully, and he lifted his eyes to look at her. "W-why do I... _ **always**_ _c-_ cry in f-f-front of you?"

He'd been stabbed by blades that didn't cut as deeply as those words did.

"I-I'm n-not w-weak I..." She sobbed. "But w-whenever y-y-you.. s-see m-me I'm... w-why?" Her cries overtook her, and the attempts she made to stifle her wailings were rendered futile.

 _ **Because I'm a fool!**_ he wanted to shout. _**Because I'm the idiot that always**_ _MAKES_ _ **you cry!**_

But no words came out of Basil's mouth. And for the first time in his life, he felt as though he was being torn apart from the inside. _**Everything**_ within him wanted to relieve the pain she was feeling. _**Everything**_ within him wanted him to reach out his _trembling hand and pull her close into a warm embrace, accompanied by soft, comfort-filled whispers._

 _ **Everything**_ within him wanted him to tell her **he** _ **loved**_ **her.**

And only _everything_ that had ever _**made sense**_ prevented him.

What of his powers? What of his unbiased judgment? What of his work!? Everything that told him he needed him to be clinical, removed, _**SAFE**_ was shaking. All those years he'd spent, building on what he was sure had been rock, was now threatening to vanish into the wind _**because of sand!**_

Her cries were unbearable. _**Oh, they were unbearable!**_

He had wanted to run away. Basil of Baker Street; the mouse who'd fought against countless formidable foes in battles of intellect and bested them in even the most treacherous tests of physical strength wanted to run away... from a shivering young woman... standing on this cold, vacant London street... unable to prevent even the smallest of cries from escaping her trembling form.

But whether it was due to the equal pull on both sides of his soul, or simply that his nobility demanded he not abandon her here all alone; he stayed. He stayed, unmoving, with what he knew had to be _**the most stupid expression that had ever graced a face**_ , strown across his features. Wishing _so_ _ **badly**_ to provide her with _**some**_ comfort, but finding that he was unable to trust himself to the task in this turbulent moment.

Basil felt something wet on his cheek, and he reached up with a hand to feel... tears? He wiped them away hurriedly, grateful that Anthia couldn't have possibly noticed them through her own.

He briskly walked a little further down the road, and somehow managed to drown his emotions into silence for one cold, forceful shout; _**"Cabbie!"**_

Anthia lifted her eyes, the whole world a flurry of greyish blurs, and she flinched as she felt Basil's hands suddenly make contact with her shoulders, carefully, but quickly guiding her into what must have been an awaiting carriage, her shock at this action of his preventing her from even thinking to resist. The door slammed behind her.

 _ **"To Rattenhouse Square, The Bloom Estate!"**_ she heard him instruct the cabbie. She felt a sudden jerk that alerted her to the fact that the carriage was now moving, and she blinked away the final remnants of her tears to find herself... _alone._

Basil watched the carriage disappear into the distance. He'd apologize for his inexcusable behavior later... He'd thank her for what she'd done later... He'd make amends later... But he could _**never**_ tell her he loved her... _Not ever._


	3. Basil Returns to Baker Street

The Great Mouse Detective: A Biased Judgment

Chapter 3: Basil Returns to Baker Street

Basil entered 22 ½ Baker Street, and Dawson's passing glance at his friend turned into a double-take as he realized the disheveled detective looked as though he had aged ten years in three minutes.

"Basil!" Dawson exclaimed, setting down the tray of tea he'd been holding. "What on Earth—?"

Basil closed the door behind himself and staggered slightly as he made his way over to where he'd last hung his purple robe, which, oddly enough, could be found on the coat rack exactly where it _should_ be hung, as had become the norm ever since Miss Bloom had started her occasional afternoon visits. The doctor had already reached his friend, and assisted him in removing his coat. The detective put the robe on, and made his way over to the red armchair, before collapsing into it.

"Basil." Dawson looked to his friend, concernedly. "What happened?!"

But Basil didn't answer. He was too absorbed in his thoughts at the moment... or rather, one particular thought, echoing in his mind, over and over again.

 _She almost died.. She almost died..._ _ **She almost died...**_

Dawson took a seat in the green armchair across from his friend, all the while looking to him, and desperately wishing Basil would tell him what was wrong... But he knew Basil wasn't one to be rushed into reveals of any sort, and so he waited.

"Dawson..." the detective spoke suddenly.

"Yes, Basil?" The doctor looked to his friend anxiously.

"Would you fetch me my pipe?" he asked wearily.

Dawson swallowed. He knew Basil had been trying to quit his smoking habit, but as he had requested it in such a state, the doctor simply hadn't the heart to deny him. "Of course, Basil," he said gently. But just as Dawson had half risen—

"No wait," Basil spoke, his voice tired but his tone urgent. "Get me a cup of tea instead."

The doctor sighed relievedly, and made his way over to the tea set to do as his friend had instructed. Dawson returned promptly with a cup of warm chamomile, which he handed Basil. The detective sipped the liquid in silence for some moments, and Dawson stood; waiting for his friend to finish.

"Thank you, Dawson," the detective said, handing the empty teacup back to his friend.

"You're welcome, Basil," the doctor replied quietly.

 _ **"Confound it!"**_ Basil roared, causing his friend to flinch in surprise. "Why couldn't I have _**said that?**_ "

"'You're welcome?'" the doctor asked puzzledly.

 _ **"No!"**_ Basil shouted. "Why couldn't I have said ' _Thank you'?!_ "

"But..." He looked to his friend confusedly. "But you just did, Basil."

"Not for the _**tea**_ , Dawson! for... _**Gahhh!**_ " Basil covered his face with his hands.

 _And you say_ _ **'I'**_ _get ahead myself when telling a story,_ thought Dawson.

Basil sighed deeply, and the doctor set the empty cup aside before retaking his seat across from the detective. Dawson leaned in towards his friend, awaiting the obviously incoming explanation with great patience.

Finally, Basil spoke. "There was an out-of-control carriage. I was distracted and.. Miss Bloom pulled me out the way." He swallowed. "It nearly got her."

Dawson's eyes widened in horror. "Basil! She wasn't injured was she?!"

"Not physically," Basil replied bluntly.

"Oh, thank goodness," Dawson said relievedly. "But are you saying she was in shock?!"

 _"No!"_ Basil denied quickly, before lowering his gaze. "But I'm afraid I... I reacted to the whole situation rather poorly."

"Oh?" Dawson raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"I..." Basil averted his eyes. "I sort of... _yelled_ at her for it."

"You what?!" Dawson said disbelievingly. "Basil! _Why_ would you do such a thing?"

"I was just..." Basil shifted in his seat a little. "She could've tried calling out a warning! So why did she...? What could've possessed her to do such a _reckless_ and.. _foolish_ thing?!"

Dawson sighed. "Some mice just react like that in dangerous situations," he offered quietly. "In some instances it's the voice that stills, and at other it's the body. I suppose she just lost her voice where another would've frozen in place. Though it's certainly fortunate she succeeded in moving you out of harm's way in time."

"Confound it, Dawson!" Basil groaned. "I went out to make sure _**she**_ got home safely!" He looked down. "What a wretchedly pompous pride I have! I nearly died. But all I can think about is how _**she**_ nearly died _instead_ of me!"

"Well..." The doctor smiled knowingly. "Call me a madmouse, but I think that's _actually_ called 'love'."

"Hmph! _**Love**_ ," Basil sneered, crossing his arms and looking away.

"Yes Basil," Dawson began, his eyes twinkling at the realization of what this new development could mean for the workaholic detective. "You know; two mice meet.. Have a mutual liking for one another... Get married... Spend the rest of their lives together?"

"Psshaw!" Basil grumped. "At what price? Have you ever _**seen**_ a mouse in love? He can barely string two sentences together!" Basil shook his head resolvedly. "It messes with the mind, Dawson!"

"Oh come come now." The doctor tried to reason with his friend. "That's only at first. Eventually the initial jitters wear off, and the support they have for one another, and the strength of the bond they share, in turn, strengthens them individually. It's not good to always be alone, Basil. You _already_ know that."

"You're only thinking of the ideal outcome," Basil responded gruffly. "One must also weigh the risks."

"Oh.. focus on the worst possible scenario you mean?" the doctor prodded teasingly.

Basil _glared_ at his friend.

"I'm sorry, Basil," Dawson said, before sighing regretfully. "I know that's not what you meant. It's just that I... I'm afraid I don't quite yet fully understand. You say it biases judgment, but I'm afraid I just can't seem to grasp your meaning. Is there something more to it, perhaps? Something you haven't told me?"

The robed rodent looked away, a slightly guilty expression playing out on his features.

"Basil," Dawson persisted softly. "I shan't force you. But I still want you to know that I am your friend. You tell every client that walks through that door I am a trustworthy confidant... Do you really still not believe in it yourself?"

Basil turned his eyes away from the wall, and leveled his gaze with the doctor's. Some moments passed, and Dawson could tell from the tension that hung in the air that the burden he was asking his friend to unload was a heavy one, and not one he could share easily... if at all.

The silence lasted so very long. But whether Basil was working up the nerve to say something, composing his words, or pondering the prudence of speaking at all... Dawson dared not say a word; for he knew that one too-hasty move, and his friend would retract into himself again, and the opportunity would be lost forever.

"Reason," Basil spoke suddenly. "Reason does not betray." Dawson tilted his head slightly, paying close attention to what his friend was saying. "Truth," Basil continued, leaning back in his seat. "Truth does not change. However illusive it may be at times it is still always there. If we just know how to look for it... To seek it... To draw it out..."—Dawson gave a small nod in acknowledgment at what his friend had said thus far.—"Love on the other hand..." Basil brought a hand to his forehead. "At least where women are concerned... is an ever-changing... fleeting thing."

Dawson's own experiences had lead him to disagree on that last addition to his friend's monologue, but still, Dawson knew better than to simply contradict him at this point, and so he chose his following words carefully. "And," the doctor began gently. "Have you formed this opinion based on Miss Bloom?"

"No," Basil replied simply, with a tone that matched his friend's for softness. "But as she is a woman, I nonetheless conclude that it is the same."

Dawson raised his eyebrows in surprise at this, before pausing to ponder what his friend had said for a few moments. "Then," he spoke carefully. "May I ask _where_ the basis for these conclusions _do_ lie?"

Basil took his hand away from his forehead, but avoided his friend's eyes as he spoke. "My... mother," he said. And Dawson felt his own vocal chords tighten in his throat upon hearing it.

"You're..." the doctor managed. "You're... mother?"

Basil nodded, then swallowed. "She um..." He exhaled forcefully. "She was a _—_ **is** _**still**_ I imagine a... a very warm, and very kind-hearted person." There was a brief silence, and Dawson swallowed heavily. "I was ten at the time that she chose to leave," Basil continued. "It was in the middle of the night, and she had packed a bag and gone to slip out the back door. She'd been planning it in secret for some time, and I am afraid it is my curse that I knew it the whole while. She could always hide whatever she wished to from father... but never from me."

"I'm... sorry," Dawson offered solemnly.

Basil continued as if he hadn't heard his friend at all. "I'd been waiting there for her. She told me to go back to bed. She said I shouldn't have been up at so late an hour, and whispered several sweet lies one would only think to tell a child to hide a... dreadful truth." Basil released several uneven breaths, gathering his emotions as best as he could before continuing, a thoroughly empathetic Dawson hanging on his every word. "I told her I _knew_ she was leaving. I'd seen the signs, and I listed each one I'd noticed to her, and her eyes widened a little bit with each one I told her." He chuckled, lightly. "You'd think she'd have gotten used to my little reveals by then."

"What did she say?" Dawson asked quietly.

"She said... That as she couldn't fool me, she would have to tell me the truth... Her love for father had grown cold... She told me she had _tried_ for my sake, but she just couldn't bare it any longer... She told me to be good, and to remember that she'd always... _always_ love me and um... she hugged me and then she... stole away like a thief in the night."

Dawson wanted to say something, but anything that came to mind felt terribly insufficient.

"My cries woke the household, and though father tried to... she was gone and... things... were never the same after that," Basil finished.

Silence enveloped the room for several long moments.

"Basil," Dawson breathed. "I... I had no idea."

"Of course you didn't," Basil stated. "I don't like to bring up the past needlessly, but I thought it best I tell you and set the question at rest in your mind once and for all... Women, Dawson... their emotions... they influence every little thing they do. I don't hate them for it, on the contrary I... I pity them. They're like butterflies, fluttering from flower to flower. They just can't help themselves. They have wings, so they fly... leaving the flower before they wither away with it... Their promises only last as long as their sympathies I'm afraid."

"Basil." The good doctor's eyes looked to his young friend with compassion. "You experienced something that _**no child**_ should _**ever**_ have to experience, and a kind of pain I doubt I shall ever even _**begin**_ to understand but... but don't you think it's a bit _unfair_ to apply the mentality of _one_ individual to _all_ of woman-kind?"

"My parent's wasn't the first marriage in the world that's ever failed, Dawson," he said quietly. "And I am certainly not saying it is _**always**_ the woman's fault... But from what I have seen with my own eyes... as a child, and as an adult... I think women just.. cannot be entirely trusted... Not the best of them."

"But has Miss Bloom ever betrayed you? Has Miss Bloom ever made you a promise she didn't keep? Has Miss Bloom ever—?"

"No," Basil said firmly. "And I shall never give her the chance to."

"Basil," Dawson whispered, shock strown across his features.

"Can you blame me, Dawson?"

"But she loves you!" he insisted.

"My mother loved my father."

"Did she _really_ , Basil?" Dawson asked skeptically. "I'd hardly call leaving your family in the middle of the night; _**Love**_."

 **"Exactly!"** Basil retorted, jumping to his feet with his clenched fists held tightly against his sides. **"It didn't last! It ended! A woman's love doesn't last! Don't you understand, Dawson?!"**

The retired army-surgeon stared up at his embittered friend. "Basil," he spoke softly. "Your mother thought love was a _**feeling**_... _**Feelings**_ fade... _**F _e_ elings**_ change. _**Love**_ _stays the same_."

Basil shook his head. "My mother _**loved me**_. I _**know**_ she did."

"How do you know?" Dawson asked. " _How do you know she loved you?_ And if love is something that always ends, then why does it matter to you so much that she did?"

Basil moved his lips, but not a word could he utter... until... **"Do you think that** _ **love**_ **is some kind of force?! Do you think it's something magical that just causes** _ **everything**_ **to work out in the end?!"**

 **"No!"** Dawson stood up to address his friend. **"Love is a choice! It's a choice to stay when you want to be somewhere else! It's a choice to stand by someone when they are at their worst! It's a choice to never stop trying to do the right thing for someone, even when they are so despicable you'd think they were impossible to love!"** Dawson's voice softened. "It's a choice, Basil. And... when we make that choice, we do it selflessly. Not because we want to receive anything in return, but because we want the best for someone. And the _greatest love_ one mortal can ever have for another... is to lay down one's own life for them... something that Miss Bloom was willing to do for _**you**_ today, even when you had made it clear to her that you could never _return her feelings_."

"Conf-found it, Dawson!" Basil said, his emotions making it difficult to enunciate. "Just because she loves me today, it doesn't mean she'll love me tomorrow!"

"But I will," Dawson said firmly. "I'm never going to give up on you, Basil. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to have a family as I never did. And Miss Bloom deserves to be judged _**fairly**_ , based on _**her own**_ _actions_."

Before Basil could offer a comeback, Dawson had exited the living room, and the detective heard the doctor's bedroom door close hastily behind him.

That night, Dawson noted his friend's violin playing was more erratic than he had ever heard previous, the melodies switching between the tense and intricate pieces, and the simpler and more contemplative many times. The doctor felt sure Basil must've played every last one of the songs he knew that night... But in truth, he had played excerpts from all... _save but one._


	4. The Following Morning

The Great Mouse Detective: A Biased Judgment

Chapter 4: The Following Morning

Dawson finished smoothing his bow-tie, and set about adjusting his collar, before pausing a few moments to stare at his reflection in the mirror. Perhaps he had been too... _harsh_ on his friend last night. Basil _**had**_ just shared something deeply personal... and maybe with all that had happened, it wasn't right to just—

The doctor snapped himself away from such thoughts. It would do little good to think of it now. He'd see Basil first, _then_ if need be Dawson would apologize.

He turned to face the door, and paused just long enough to take in a deep, cleansing breath, bracing himself for whatever events were to pass after he exited the bedroom.

He should have taken _**two**_ cleansing breaths.

After emerging, he paused in the hallway, having noticed that the door to Basil's room was ajar. Dawson peeked his head around the corner and looked into the room.

"Basil?" he called quietly, but he didn't see his friend.

He continued on his way through the corridor and came into the living room, expecting to see Basil sitting by the fireplace, but as Dawson looked about the room, he was surprised to find that no one was there either.

He turned his eyes toward the front door, and noticed Basil's hat and coat were missing from the rack. The detective had recently got in the habit of leaving them where they belonged, but just in case; Dawson did a brief search for them in all the old usual places (inside the grandfather clock, slung over a lamp, pinned to the dart board... etc), but eventually he concluded that Basil had indeed gone out (not stayed indoors and gone to see Mrs. Judson or anything like that), and Dawson decided he'd just sit and read a newspaper and drink some tea for the moment, hoping that his friend would return before breakfast.

But Dawson had _just_ settled into the green armchair when he heard the front door open and close, and he looked around the back of his own chair to see that Basil had entered rather energetically, and was whistling a lively tune as he made his way to the coat rack.

"Good morning, Dawson," he said cheerfully, removing his coat.

"Good morning, Basil," the doctor replied—watching as his friend's coat slipped off the hook, dropping onto on floor—"What um... that is... where did you go while you were out?"

"Oh, I've been out and about. Here and there. Doing this and that," Basil said dismissively, picking the fallen coat up and taking care to place it on the rack more neatly—an action of tidying, which had Mrs. Judson been present to see, would have no doubt resulted in her fainting dead-away in disbelief.

"I see," Dawson said solemnly. "You're... you're alright aren't you?"

"Why of course my good fellow!" said Basil, placing his hat upon another hook. "Never been better!"

"Oh." Dawson was unsure. It _**would**_ be just like Basil to make light of his emotional well-being.. but if he wasn't willing to explain, then the doctor wouldn't press him.

"You might've bothered to wind the clock when you searched it for my coat," said Basil, turning the key to open it. "And seeing as I _**am**_ here now, I suggest you ring the bell for our breakfast."

Dawson raised an eyebrow. "How did you know that I—?"

"The key, although in the same spot, wasn't in exactly the same position I'd last left it—as I always leave the teeth facing outwards, but I noticed just now that they were facing inwards—and yet the clock had clearly not been wound since I last took the time to do it, so I deduced that your purpose in opening it was to see if my coat was there.. something which is difficult to see without opening it up and looking in. And I deduced that you hadn't ordered breakfast yet, as had you done so, you would most likely have had those scones you are so partial to _with_ your tea, as it is your custom to consume them together."

"But.. how did you know I just didn't feel like having scones today?" Dawson asked, curious.

Basil smiled. "I didn't know, Dawson. I merely weighed the likelihoods... and I _know_ you like your scones. There were a few other reasons that would have merited you not having any—apart from a sudden inexplicable distaste for them—such as the kitchen having run out the ingredients; an unlikely possibility as long as Mrs. Judson is in charge of this establishment.. or that you were feeling unwell, and decided it would be better for your health to simply have the tea without them, but you seem fine.. therefore, it is likely that you _would've_ ordered the scones."

Dawson thought it over for a few moments. "And... how did you know I didn't have breakfast _**because**_ I was waiting for you?"

Basil chuckled. "You are a doctor through and through, Dawson, and thus, you would obviously know that _'breakfast'_ is the most important meal of the day. I seriously doubted after all those years of medical school you would _easily_ choose to ignore something so basic, _unless_ it were to put someone else's welfare above your own."

Dawson shook his head smiling. "I'll ring the bell," he said with a small laugh, rising from his seat.

The clock now wound, and the key replaced on the mantel where it belonged, Basil left to get some glass cleaner from his bedroom. Dawson was just about to retake his seat after having rung the bell, when he noticed a small piece of paper on the floor next to the coat rack, and it looked as though it had fallen out of his friend's coat pocket. Dawson walked over to it, and bent down to pick it up. But instead of immediately restoring it to its proper place, he turned it over and noticed it appeared to be a receipt of some sort.

 _"Smithy's... One Saph?"_ he whispered.

"What have you got there, Dawson?"

 _"Gahhh!"_ Dawson instinctively hid the receipt behind his back, and whirled around to see Basil had been standing directly behind him. "Oh... Basil!... Th-This fell out of your coat pocket and I was just.. picking it up!" he stammered.

"Oh did it now?" Basil eyed his friend good-humoredly. "Well it was certainly good of you to remove it from the floor now wasn't it? And to _**inspect**_ _the fallen piece of paper so_ _ **thoroughly**_ _for damage too!"_

Dawson looked away in embarrassment.

Basil clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Snooping at your age is _quite unbecoming_ , Dawson," he teased. The detective held his hand out, and raised an eyebrow expectantly, smiling all the while.

The doctor avoided his friend's eyes and relinquished the receipt.

"Thank you," said Basil, tucking the paper into his trouser pocket. He turned 'round and walked back towards the clock and glass cleaner he'd just retrieved. "Well as you _**have**_ seen the receipt..." He took up a cleaning cloth. "Care to speculate as to the purpose of my little outing?"

Dawson came a little closer to his friend as he spoke. "You... went to some place called _Smithy's?_ "

"Yes." Basil used the cloth to wipe at the glass in front of the clock face. "But _**why**_ , Dawson?"

The doctor began to turn it over in his mind. _Smithy's... Smithy's... Wasn't that...?_

"Basil," the doctor spoke. "Isn't that shop located somewhere near Mr. Bloom's office?"

The detective gave his friend an approving glance. "Excellent memory, Dawson!" he praised. "We'll make an investigator out of you yet!" Basil turned his attentions back to his little cleaning project, and Dr. Dawson furrowed his brows in concentration.

 _So that_ _ **did**_ _have something to do with it... Had Basil gone to see Mr. Bloom then?... And what of this shop he'd gone to?..._

Dawson walked over to the green armchair and took up the teacup that was sitting on the stand next to it.

 _Wait..._ he thought. _Wasn't Smithy's... a_ _ **jewelry**_ _store?_

Basil had been kneeling next to the clock to clean the lower part of a side pane, and now rose to look at his friend. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in being my best-mouse would you?" he asked, smiling.

Dawson was quite absorbed in his thoughts, and so Basil's question didn't fully register until _**after**_ he'd lifted the cup up to his lips.

 _pfffffffffffffffffffffttttt_

"Wh-what!?" Dawson sputtered, having just swallowed some of his tea the wrong way. "What did you _*cough*_ say Basil?"

"Well if it's _**that**_ repulsive a prospect..." Basil went to set the glass cleaner on the mantel.

"B-Basil?" Dawson restored the cup to it's place. "You don't _*cough*_ mean—?"

"But you'll be our mouseling's godfather I hope?" Basil wiped his hands on a dishtowel. "Oh how Miss Bloom _**adores**_ children! I suspect we shan't have too many... five or six at the most."

 _ **"Basil!"**_ Dawson shouted, rushing up and grabbing his friend by the shoulders. "Are you saying you mean to... _**marry**_ Miss Bloom?!"

"But of course my good fellow!" Basil replied jovially. "I was just over to ask her father for his blessing.. something which came at none-too-small a price I'm afraid. Our first son _must_ be named 'Reginald'. A dreadful sacrifice, I know... but Mr. Bloom was _quite_ immovable upon that point."

"Basil!" Dawson's face was lit up with such an expression of joy he looked as though he could cry. "You mean to say—? That is you're really—? _Really_ and _truly_ you're going to—?"

"Yes." Basil smiled. "And it's all thanks to you, Dawson. I shall forever be in your debt for finally talking some _sense_ into this muddled head of mine. And I just want you to know that although our first son's name may already be chosen, I can assure you that... if indeed we _**do**_ have a second, he bear the name 'David', a name _**I know**_ _..._ will be one truly befitting a son from The Line of Basil."

Being half-way there anyways, Dawson pulled his friend in for a big hug, which despite Basil's awkward position—having his arms tightly pinned to his sides—was quite a welcome gesture to the both of them.

"Um... Dawson?" Basil spoke after several long moments. "I sort of still need to go ask her.. so if you could just um..." His eyes flickered between Dawson and the door a few times.

"Oh!.. Oh my! But yes, of course!" Dawson exclaimed, releasing his grip on his friend. "Go... By _all means go!_ "

"Thank you, Dawson." Basil readjusted his vest. "I do believe I shall."

There was a brief pause.

"...Right after we have our breakfast," he finished, before turning and walking towards the dining table.


	5. The Apology

The Great Mouse Detective: A Biased Judgment

Chapter 5: The Apology

 _After breakfast_... Basil visited The Bloom Estate. He passed by the front gate easily enough, and upon reaching the manor, rung the doorbell. The butler answered the door, and Basil introduced himself... only to have the fellow _very nearly_ slam the door right in his face! At the mention of Mr. Bloom's name however; the bulldog of a butler begrudgingly permitted him entrance.

After Basil had been shown in, a maid began to lead the way to where Lady Anthia was - a maid who acted pointedly curt with him. And Basil didn't have to be a detective to guess accurately as to why his welcoming had been such a cold one. Although Miss Bloom wasn't one to speak ill of anyone - even if deserved, the emotional state in which she must've arrived home the night before, despite whatever steps she might've taken to conceal it, her guise would have likely been seen through by the trusty servants, who no doubt, would've also known _where_ she had gone and _whom_ she had gone to visit.

Basil had some difficulty in preventing the maid from announcing him, but a brief, sincere expression of his desire to properly apologize to Miss Bloom, and the maid was sufficiently pacified to merely direct him to the music room before leaving him to navigate the corridor by himself as he'd requested.

As Basil neared the music room, he noticed the door was ajar, and he heard the sounds of some unfamiliar, but quite pleasant melody being played. He peered cautiously around the corner and through the doorway, to see Miss Bloom seated at the piano, her moving fingers the source of the music. She was neither facing towards or away from him, but was sidelong, pointed at the wall.

The large bay-windows emitted sunlight that filled the room, shining down on Anthia's raven-black hair and reflecting in her lovely brown eyes. The light also gave her creamy white dress something of a glow effect, and Basil couldn't help but think she looked like something of an angel sitting there... which only made what he had yet to do all the more difficult.

She hummed sweetly as she played, still not having noticed his presence, lost in her own little world... not unlike Basil when he played his violin. He slowly, silently approached her, before pausing just a short distance away from her and softly clearing his throat. She immediately stopped playing and turned to him, lifting her gaze, and upon seeing him her eyes widened in surprise. "Basil?" she uttered quietly.

He smiled weakly.

She swallowed slowly. Lowered her gaze. And turned away from him.

He hardly expected her to let out a cry of delight and embrace him after the events of last night, but nevertheless her subtle actions were rather disheartening ones for him to witness all the same.

"May..." He indicated to the piano bench. "May I sit here?"

She gave him a little sidelong glance, and appeared to be thinking it over briefly before scooting over, making room for him - but carefully avoiding his eyes as she did.

Basil couldn't help but smile a little at the small gesture, and with just a little more hope, he sat himself down next to her, not noticing that the twinge of a smile had also briefly appeared on her face as he did.

They sat in silence for some moments.

"Basil," she spoke, her tone serious, and he turned to face her. "I'm very sorry that what I did upset you so... but at the same time I... I just can't bring myself to regret it."

"Miss Bloom—"

"Perhaps you think it was wrong of me, Basil..." she put in quickly. "But my voice stopped and I... I just couldn't stand by and let you... just let you—"

"I came here to apologize."

Anthia's eyes widened.

"Although I'd _certainly_ prefer you never feel the need to put yourself in harm's way for my sake ever again," he told her softly. "I now realize that... in your position... I'd have done exactly the same thing."

She swallowed.

"I was _wrong_ to act as I did," he said quietly. "I was wrong to belittle and to.. _**shout**_ at you." Basil hung his head. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I should've _thanked you_ , Anthia, I... I behaved abominably, and I'm... I'm very sorry."

There was a silence.

"Do you..." he managed. "Do you think you can ever forgive me?"

"Basil," she uttered gently, her voice nearly a whisper. "Of course I can forgive you... I _**do**_ forgive you."

He exhaled heavily, clearly much relieved by her answer. "Thank you," he said, quietly. "Thank you for forgiving me and um..." He lifted his eyes so they were level with hers. "Thank you for saving my life." He smiled weakly.

Anthia returned the smile. "You're welcome, Basil," she said, softly.

They sat in silence for some moments, both avoiding each others eyes.

"Anthia?" he spoke, suddenly.

She turned to look at him.

"What was that song you were playing when I came in?" he asked curious.

"Oh... uh..." Her eyes darted to and fro. "Just um..." She avoided his gaze. "Just a song I was.. working on."

"Oh?" Basil raised an eyebrow. "Well... I don't suppose you would you mind playing it for me, would you?"

Anthia looked a bit panicked. "Oh!.. um.. It's not.. it's not even finished it... it's silly really you..." She looked down. "You probably wouldn't like it."

"Nonsense!" Basil insisted warmly. "I'm sure it sounds wonderful, and if you play for me _**I promise**_ I wont think it's silly."

Anthia looked away. "I can't, Basil. It... I'm a _terrible_ songwriter."

"Now I'm sure _**that's**_ not true."

"But it is!" she insisted, turning to face him. "Everything I write is so... _annoyingly_ sentimental."

Basil laughed. "It's a _song_ , Anthia. It's _supposed_ 'to be' _**annoyingly**_ sentimental."

She smirked a little and glanced away from him for a moment.

"Please, Anthia?" he persisted, looking to her with an endearing expression.

She exhaled. "It's a song about a person," she began, and Basil listened attentively. "And they... they want to fall in love, a little too badly so they... allow their emotions to influence their reasoning and... _thankfully_ , they realize _in time,_ that the person they thought they loved is really just someone they imagined in their head."

Basil pursed his lips together and nodded slowly. "It sounds interesting," he remarked encouragingly. He glanced down at the piano keys and back to her several times. _'Play it'_ his eyes told her.

Anthia giggled. "Alright," she said, finally relenting. "But remember you requested it."

She cleared her throat and began by placing her fingers on the first chord...

 _"~Was it ever tangible, attainable~_

 _~and something I could grasp~_

 _~something takeable, gainable~_

 _~that I was once meant to have had~_

 _~but that time passed~_

 _~leaving me with nothing more~_

 _~save this hole inside my soul~_

 _~where you were meant to be?~_

 _~Mirage, mirage~_

 _~something that never was~_

 _~Mirage, mirage~_

 _~what I thought was meant to be was not~_

 _~I thought I saw it clearly~_

 _~I thought I knew your heart~_

 _~but time has shown you're merely~_

 _~a delusion made up of my thoughts~_

 _~what I needed most you could not give~_

 _~but now I see it like it is~_

 _~and what I have learned, well that is this:~_

 _~Mirage... mirage...~_

 _~Oh mirage... mirage...~_

 _~you are not the one I.. love~"_

She stopped, and grimaced a little as she turned to look to him for his reaction.

"Is that all you have so far?" he asked simply.

She nodded.

"It's quite good," he told her.

"Really?" She lifted her shoulders a little. "I mean you... you really think so?"

Basil chuckled. "I _really_ think so," he told her.

Anthia blushed and looked away from him. "I'm glad you think so," she said, smiling shyly.

Basil stood up, and extended his arm, wordlessly requesting she take his hand.

Anthia was a bit confused. "What is...?"

"You save my life, pardon my blunder, and play me a song. Did you _really_ think I wouldn't thank you properly?" He looked to her, his expression an expectant one.

Anthia hesitated a moment, but then she smiled and lifted her hand to his in acceptance.


	6. The Resolution

The Great Mouse Detective: A Biased Judgment

Chapter 6: The Resolution

Basil lead her out to the patio, and lifted his free hand to his mouth, making a sharp whistling sound.

Anthia looked out to see a large dog bounding towards them. She instinctively half-hid behind Basil, but the detective was unphased by this. The hound came to a stop just a half-foot away from them.

"Anthia." Basil reached behind and pushed her uncomfortably close to the dog. "This is Toby."

"Ah heh." She looked up at the large, slobbery, happily panting creature. "Hello there... Toby?"

The dog barked a greeting, the loudness of which caused Anthia to flinch slightly.

"Here," Basil said, handing her a crumpet. "Give him this."

She looked to Basil with a desperate expression, the sight of which caused him to burst out laughing. "Here," he said, lifting the hand with the crumpet in it up to the dog with his own. "Care for a crumpet, Toby?" he called. The dog barked happily and licked the treat up with his enormous tongue. Anthia giggled and pat the dog's nose with her hand.

"There, you see?" Basil grinned. "I knew he'd approve of you."

Anthia raised an eyebrow at that, uncertain as to why he would use such an awkward phrase to describe what had just transpired.

"Alli-oooop!" Basil voiced, hoisting himself up and onto Toby's back. Basil then reached down to Anthia, and after a rather contemplative hesitation, she took his hand, enabling him to pull her up after him.

"Alright," Basil instructed, Anthia now sitting behind him. "Now it's just a short ride away, hold tightly to my middle and you wont fall off."

"Um... B-Basil?" She sounded uneasy.

"It's alright," he assured her. "I promise you we'll go slow." He turned his attentions to dog. "Now Toby," he began, firmly. "Just like I told you. Mush!"

The dog barked a happy response, and started his toddle down a nearby grassy trail.

"There you see?" Basil spoke to her. "Nice and easy."

"Yes," Anthia agreed, a little more relaxed now. "But Basil, where are we going?"

"Ah ah ah!" Basil denied her an answer. "You'll know that soon enough."

The path eventually lead them through an opening between two trees, which continued on into a clearing where Anthia caught sight of a (human-sized) stone gazebo, right where the path ended. The structure had quite a pleasing look to it, especially with the green grass and bluebells all 'round it... but what was that _thing_ there inside it?

Toby came to a stop on the first and only step elevating the gazebo's stone floor, and Basil dismounted. The detective helped Anthia down, and the dog left quietly without being bade to (an action, which unbeknownst to Miss Bloom, had taken some effort to plan ahead). Basil left Anthia's side and walked a very short distance over to what she could now tell was a _phonograph_ , and after he had cranked it, and adjusted the needle accordingly, it began to sound a familiar violin-played melody.

"This..." Anthia paused. "This is your song, isn't it?"

" _Our_ song," he reminded her, smiling. "You _did_ write the lyrics." Basil cleared his throat, and began to sing softly. " _~It's a cold wet London morning, and the sun shines on the streets, in every byway there's a story, unspoken by those you may meet~"_

Anthia looked to him, touched. "You... you memorized them?"

"Well of course I did!" He grinned. "Did you think someone was communicating the lyrics to me telepathically?"

Anthia laughed. "No, no! I just... I never heard back from you about it and... I _had thought_ perhaps you disliked them."

"Disliked them?" Basil chuckled. "I can't get them out of my head! Dawson keeps getting annoyed with me because I'm singing them under my breath all the time."

They both laughed, and Basil extended a hand towards her. Anthia eyed him confusedly for a moment.

"Care to dance?" he clarified.

She smiled and reached out, taking his hand in acceptance of his offer. Basil lead her further in towards the center of the gazebo, and they began to waltz.

"You really didn't have to do all this," she told him abashedly.

"Just take it as a humble detective thanking his savior." He grinned. "You know, in some cultures, you'd be obligated to be responsible for me for the rest of my life."

Anthia giggled. "If it weren't for you I might not still have a father today. I think we can forgo foreign superstitions and just call it even."

"Maybe," he said playfully. "Or perhaps that simply means it is a tradition we should _both_ adhere to."

Anthia's smile vanished, and she averted her eyes. "Don't say such things, Basil," she said, quietly. "I'm afraid I might misunderstand."

Then suddenly... Basil dipped her.

 _ **"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!"**_

She stared up annoyedly at Basil's mischievous grin. "You could've warned me you know!" she scolded, though the corners of her mouth were twinging her lips into a half-smile.

"Now where would the fun be in that?" he asked mischievously, pulling her back up and then twirling her outwards before she could answer. He heard her release several little happy cries of surprise, and Basil pulled her back in towards him, resuming their waltz.

"You're evil," she giggled teasingly.

" _Moi?_ " Basil asked in mock innocence. _"Never!"_

Anthia chuckled, hurriedly tucking a loose hair behind her ear. They danced for a while in blissful silence.

"This was so thoughtful of you, Basil," she told him sweetly. "Thank you for doing this."

"I'm glad it's made you happy," he said, smiling weakly, his eyes tinged with regret. "I really wanted to give you... just _one_ really good memory with me in it."

"Basil." She looked up at him, speaking in an empathetic tone. "You've given me _many_ good memories."

"Oh, yes," he said, rolling his eyes. "Mortal peril and needless lectures are _exceedingly pleasant_."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, Basil." She chuckled. "You _know_ that wasn't what they were _all_ like... and besides, every memory we have is precious to me... because they have _**you**_ in them."

He smiled at her kind words. "Well..." He grinned shyly. "I wanted to give you a... _exceptionally_ good one then."

The song came to an end, and they released their grip on each other and stepped a little further apart. Anthia was just about to ask him to stay over for lunch, when suddenly Basil knelt down... and Anthia could've sworn she felt the heart in her chest stop beating completely.

"B-Basil?" she stuttered, her eyes widened in shock. "Wh-Why are you...?"

"Anthia," he said softly. "Beautiful Anthia... For the first time in my life I have come to a crossroad wherein I hold my reason and emotions in equal regard because... _for once_ , they are _**both**_ telling me to make _the same choice_."

Anthia brought a hand to her mouth and stifled a whimper, her shoulders trembling, disbelief preventing her from blinking her tear-filled eyes.

"I..." he continued, smiling. " _I love you_ , Anthia.—" She released a sob. "—I love... Everything about you. I love your caring disposition... your quiet optimism... your kind heart, your charm, your patience... how you can look at an automaton and see a person.—" She laughed a little at that. "—And although it boggles my mind how someone as wonderful as you could ever _return_ the feelings of a mouse who has been _**so blind**_... still I must ask you..." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a sapphire ring. "Miss Anthia Bloom... Will you marry me?"

Anthia was too emotional to manage word, so instead, she nodded, tearfully, extending a trembling left hand out to him. Basil smiled up at her, and delicately slid the ring onto her finger. He stood up, and—just as he had been dying to do the night before—he pulled her in close to him, embracing her. They stood like that for some time, just holding onto each other, and Anthia happily crying into his shoulder.

Suddenly Basil chuckled lightly. "I don't suppose this is helping the whole _'why do I always cry in front you'_ situation, is it?"

Anthia laughed, and Basil gently pulled away from her, reaching up with his handkerchief to dry her eyes. A few moments passed, and Anthia lifted her left hand to hold his right one to her cheek before he could retract it.

"I love you," she whispered, looking up at him with filled eyes. "I love you, Basil."

He smiled weakly. "I know, Anthia," he said softly. "And... I'm only sorry I didn't realize just how much _that meant_ , until today."

Basil carefully reclaimed his hand, and smiled down at her, before taking both her hands into his while staring deep into her eyes... and then he leaned in, and he sweetly kissed her.

 _The End_

* * *

 ** _Thank you so much for reading my story._**

 ** _If you could take just a few moments to leave me even a short_ ( _or perhaps long and in-depth)_ _review,_**

 ** _I'd certainly appreciate knowing what you thought of it._**

 ** _Please and thank you,_**

 ** _Monica Jasmine_**


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